


25. Have one torrid night with a masked stranger.

by somebetterwords



Category: Glee
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M, Misunderstandings, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebetterwords/pseuds/somebetterwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When responsibility for the annual Condé Nast gala fell on Isabelle Wright’s shoulders, she threw convention out the window and threw a masquerade ball. The rules were not many, but they were strict: (1) No names. Don’t identify yourself to one another. Don’t even drop hints about who you are. You do not know the stranger behind the mask, even if you do. (2) Don’t take off your mask. (3) Dress code is Evening Formal.</p><p>It was the perfect opportunity for Kurt to cross one of the weird ones off his bucket list.</p><p>This story isn’t about that though. This story is about the morning after.</p><p> </p><p>  <a href="http://somebetterwords.tumblr.com/post/130522178059/25-have-one-torrid-night-with-a-masked-stranger">Read on Tumblr.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	25. Have one torrid night with a masked stranger.

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 2 of [kurtoberfest](http://kurtoberfest.tumblr.com/), “Masquerade Ball.” I made up a corporate culture for an actual mass media company and I apologize for nothing.
> 
> Warning: discussion of r*pe by deception, mentions of stalking

Kurt woke up to the feeling of accomplishment. There was also the sound of an ambulance siren whizzing by, but that was secondary to the feeling of accomplishment. He had done it. He had crossed another one off the bucket list. And not just that, he had crossed off one of the more outlandish entries.

**25\. Have one torrid night with a masked stranger.**

He blinked open his eyes slowly to take stock of himself and his surroundings. There was a warm arm draped over his waist, the body of his paramour pressed firmly against his back; the throbbing emanating from his ass wouldn’t be impossible to walk with, assuming he was remembering last night correctly and there was an elevator to this building; his mask was still firmly tied, he could feel it tight against his skin; there was… oh, wow, he had crossed that bucket list item off with _gusto_. There was a forest green cummerbund shining in the early morning sunlight, hanging off the curtain rod above the bedroom window.

Kurt wiggled his arm out from under where it was pressed into the mattress, so he could pat himself on the shoulder (because he couldn’t reach his back). He’d have to bake Isabelle some thank you cookies for making this possible for him. She always was making his wildest dreams come true. Sure, she didn’t _know_ she was facilitating this exact experience when she decided to organize a masquerade ball for Condé Nast employees (for an evening of genuine revelry and human connection without the networking and gossip and cliques that normally came part and parcel with these things), but that was the mark of a truly spectacular fairy godmother, wasn’t it? She could grant Kurt’s wishes before he ever dared to speak them.

God, what an amazing night it had been. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard or smiled so much, the last time he’d had such easy conversation, the last time he’d been swept off his feet. And that wasn’t even counting how great the sex was. It had truly been one of the loveliest times of his life, and he owed it to the stranger behind him.

The arm around him tightened as his mystery man woke up, and he mumbled something incoherent before nuzzling his face in the nape of Kurt’s neck.

“G’morning,” Kurt murmured, stretching his neck when the stranger went from nuzzling to kissing.

“Morning,” he replied, voice roughened by sleep. “One more round before you have to go?”

Kurt grinned. He’d had his torrid night with a masked stranger, there was nothing wrong with extending it into morning. Kurt turned around and shoved the man’s shoulders until he was flat on his back, then moved to straddle his waist. “I don’t have to go in to work till after lunch,” he said, running his hands up and down the chiseled chest in front of him. “My whole department got a half-day since we’re the ones who threw last night’s shindig.” He casually circled around the man’s pebbled left nipple with his index finger. “So we could go a lot of rounds before I have to go, if you’re free.”

“Fuck,” the stranger groaned. “I’ll call a sick day.” Then he hauled Kurt down by the shoulders and into a searing kiss.

Kurt was so absorbed by his lover’s lips that he didn’t even notice the morning breath. He did notice when his mask felt suddenly looser, followed by the feeling of one of the ribbon ends tickling against his skin. “Wait, no.” He used his fingers to hold the mask against his face as  he sat back up. “We can’t see each other’s faces. You’re not a masked stranger if we do.”

The masked stranger sat up, holding Kurt by the hips so he wouldn’t get bucked off by the movement and setting Kurt down in his lap. “You said you wanted a torrid _night_ with a stranger,” The man whined. “And I gave you that! The night is over, Kurt, c’mon.”

Kurt froze when he heard his name coming out of the man’s mouth. Then he started scrambling away, slapping at the hands that tried to hold him in place. “How do you know my name?” His voice trembled with fear as he felt around the hardwood with his foot, trying to find his clothes— shirt, pants, underwear, _anything_ so he could get out the door— without breaking eye contact with the stranger.

“Kurt, calm down—”

“ _Who are you?_ ” Kurt shrieked. “I know every soul who works at Dot-Com so don’t try and tell me you’re a coworker! You’re not. So who the fuck _are_ you?”

“I can’t believe it,” he had the gall to sound offended, and Kurt would be furious if he weren’t so scared. “You really think I’m a stranger?”

“You _are_ a stranger! Oh my god.” Kurt’s knees started shaking and he felt like the edges of his vision go blurry as a panic attack crept upon him. “You’re a stalker. I’m being stalked again. Oh my god.”

“What the fuck, Kurt,” Stalker actually sounded concerned. “How often are you getting stalked?”

“Why, do you wanna take out your competition?”

“I’m not a stalker!” The man whipped his mask off and dropped it to the ground.

Kurt’s eyes widened as he realized the man really wasn’t a stalker.

He was much worse.

“No,” Kurt hissed, more to himself than Sebastian.

“Yes,” Sebastian hissed back. “Did you seriously not recognize me?”

“Obviously I didn’t! Why would I?”

“Well, I recognized you!”

“Of course you recognized me!” Kurt got on his knees to search under the bed for his boxer-briefs, fairly confident Sebastian wouldn’t try to shank him or something when his back was turned. “I have a crazy distinctive voice for a man.” He found a shirt, so he stood back up to put it on. “And don’t even think of making a crack about my gender identity.”

“I wasn’t going to! And your underwear is hanging off the footboard.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said reflexively. He slid them on quickly before storming out of the bedroom on a quest for his jacket and shoes. Those had come off on the way to the bed, he was pretty sure. Kurt found the jacket and slid it on, and then he was hit with a realization that left him outraged and swivelling around to face Sebastian again. “You knew we knew each other and didn’t think to clue me in?”

“I didn’t think I needed to!”

Kurt gawped at him in horrified shock for a second. “You didn’t think you needed to? You thought it was okay to— to just _hoodwink_ someone into sex?” Kurt shook his head vigorously. “You know what, don’t answer that. Don’t talk to me in general.” He grabbed his shoes before wrenching the front door open. “I’d tell you to have a nice life,” he called over his shoulder, “but I hope you have a shitty one.” Then he slammed the door shut behind him. Kurt marched over to the elevator bank and pressed the button impatiently. 

Sebastian opened his door just enough to stick his upper half out. “Kurt, you’ve got it all wrong,” he protested. “I can explain. Please just come inside so we can talk about it.”

“Nope,” Kurt replied, eyes fixed on the display above the elevator doors. He bounced on his heels and reached into his jacket’s inside pocket as he waited.

“Well, at least come get your clothes! You can’t just go outside without pants!”

Kurt slid his MetroCard out, holding it between his middle finger and his index and ring finger so he could simultaneously wave it in Sebastian’s face and flip him the bird. “The MTA has seen worse.”

The doors slid open just then, and Kurt stepped in and held the door close button before Sebastian could find something to cover his junk and follow him down. As angry as he was, Kurt could appreciate how perfectly timed the elevator had been for his dramatic exit. At least _something_ had gone his way today.

***

Kurt wasn’t totally sure why he had bothered coming in to work at all today. He had experienced a very traumatic morning and nobody was gonna get shit done on a half-day after the biggest event of the year anyway. But then, he supposed staying home would be letting Sebastian win.

So instead of ruminating at home, Kurt ruminated at his desk. He just couldn’t reconcile the Sebastian he knew from high school with the Sebastian he met last night. And he certainly couldn’t reconcile the Sebastian from last night with what had happened this morning. And as much as Kurt had hated him, he never would have pegged teenaged Sebastian as someone who would deceive an acquaintance into thinking him a stranger so he could get some ass.

Kurt replayed last night over and over in his mind, looking for some sign of malice in Sebastian’s actions. He came up empty. There were… some knowing smiles and pauses in conversation that made a lot more sense in hindsight, but no trace of trickery. Sebastian had been charming and suave and so, so _sweet_. It hurt to think his night of magic had all been a lie.

Kurt decided to stop dissecting such a perfect memory, so he flashed forward to this morning. And this morning made even less sense. Sebastian had seemed genuinely surprised that Kurt didn’t know who he was before the mask came off. But if he thought Kurt already knew him, why keep up with the pretence of masks and namelessness after they left the party where it was mandatory?

 _“You said you wanted a torrid_ night _with a stranger. And I gave you that!”_

Oh fuck. That was why. Kurt rested his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands. And then he screamed a little. Not enough for anyone to hear him, just to get the frustration out. Kurt didn’t even know how they had done it, but somewhere along the way from that first drink to fucking, Sebastian had gotten it in his head that they were, like, roleplaying or something. But who did that! Who met their high school nemesis for the first time in years and spent a whole party dancing him around the floor and hanging off his every word before taking him home and fucking him so hard the bed almost broke, like some x-rated Prince Charming? Who met their high school nemesis for the first time in years, found out about a sexual fantasy said high school nemesis held, and then thought to himself, ‘yeah, sure, we can make that happen!’ Well, apparently Sebastian Smythe did. God, Kurt had thought he was being so sultry and seductive when he had told his stranger about his bucket list item.

Sebastian hadn’t tried to hoodwink him. Sebastian had tried to give him the night of his dreams. And he’d succeeded too.

And then Kurt went and ruined everything by morning.

Kurt tipped his head back to rest against his chair’s headrest and blew out a frustrated breath. How was he going to fix this? Because there was no question, he needed to fix this. He needed to make amends.

And that was when he heard a very familiar smooth tenor— oh, sure, _now_ his brain could identify that voice lickety-split, that was just swell— sounding from the reception desk. “Excuse me, hi, I’m Sebastian, from Legal. My Cinderfella from last night forgot his glass slipper, so I was hoping I could pop over to Kurt’s desk and return it.”

Kurt was sure that the receptionist was receiving a disarming megawatt smile right then. He whipped his head from side to side, looking for some avenue of escape. Curse their modern floor plan for putting every coming and going from his office is plain sight! Just because he wanted to make amends didn’t mean he was ready to make ‘em right this very minute! How did Sebastian even know where he worked?

_“I know every soul who works at Dot-Com so don’t try and tell me you’re a coworker!”_

Oh, right, because Kurt had told him. He really wasn’t used to people from his personal life listening to him when he talked.

With nowhere else to go, Kurt squeaked in panic before kicking his chair back and sliding under his desk.

He heard his office door click closed, footsteps approaching. He held his breath. Maybe Sebastian would just leave something on his desk and walk away. And then Kurt could gather himself up and go visit Sebastian’s department to fix things when he was ready.

Sebastian’s unimpressed visage appeared before his eyes as the man in question leaned over the desk and popped his head down over the edge, his cocked eyebrow no less powerful for the fact that Kurt was seeing him upside down. He pulled out of Kurt’s line of sight and in his place was Kurt’s mask, swinging lightly side to side from the ribbon Sebastian had pinched between his forefinger and thumb.

Kurt let out a sigh of defeat, heaving himself back up to stand and face Sebastian. He stared down at his desk blotter as he took deep breaths and steeled himself before lifting his head to look Sebastian in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

“I would _never_ try to con someone into— wait, what?”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said again. “I jumped to conclusions, but when I really stopped to think about it, I realized my conclusions were wrong. You thought that I recognized you and we were just… playing a sex game, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Sebastian nodded decisively. “That’s exactly what I thought.” His shoulders dropped then, and he ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I had a whole speech to defend my honour ready in my head,” he admitted with a timid smile.

Kurt smiled back, and Sebastian brightened in response. “You could still give it if you wanted,” Kurt offered.

“Nah,” Sebastian shook his head. “Let’s skip ahead to the part where we kiss and make up.” He bent down to pick something up off the floor, in front of Kurt’s desk and out of his sight. He stood back up and handed Kurt a bloom of daffodils.

He didn’t hand him a bouquet of daffodils, though. No, Sebastian handed him a potted plant. Kurt stared at it incredulously, brows furrowed, before he broke out into giggles. “Thank you, Sebastian,” Kurt said, setting the pot down on his desk. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I would have gotten you cut flowers,” Sebastian insisted. “But I was running late this morning after… everything, so I had to improvise.”

Kurt walked around his desk to stand in front of Sebastian. He circled his arms around his shoulders cautiously, relaxing when Sebastian’s arms found his waist and the hug was returned. “I shouldn’t have run out on you like that.”

The arms around his waist tightened. “You felt betrayed and unsafe so you got out. That’s _never_ the wrong thing to do, okay?” He pulled away and unbuttoned his blazer before pulling up the chair opposite Kurt’s desk and sitting. “Though I would have stopped to find my pants if I were you,” he said with a grin.

Kurt snorted and hopped onto his desk. “The city of New York was blessed to get the view they did.” He tapped the toe of his shoe against Sebastian’s calf. “Did you end up finding them?”

“It took a while, but I got all your clothes together, yeah. We had a _lot_ of fun last night.” Sebastian leaned forward to squeeze his knee and smiled up at Kurt hopefully. “You could… come over after work, to get your stuff back?”

 _Oh_.

“Do you wanna go out for dinner first?” Kurt hadn’t meant to blurt it out quite like that, but there it was. “My treat, since you got me flowers and all.”

Sebastian didn’t respond at first, and Kurt wondered if he had misread the situation. Then he started nodding eagerly, looking like a ridiculously handsome bobblehead. “I’d love to.”

“Great,” Kurt said, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Great,” Sebastian agreed. He glanced down at his watch, then stood up and buttoned his blazer closed again. “My break’s about over,” he said apologetically.

“See you in a few hours?”

“Absolutely,” Sebastian confirmed. “I’ll come back down to get you.” He grabbed one of Kurt’s business cards from the holder at the corner of the desk. “And I’ll call if I’m late.”

Kurt hopped down from his perch to walk Sebastian out, stopping him before they opened the door. He hauled Sebastian down for a kiss not even remotely appropriate for their place of work, then released him just as suddenly. “You said kiss and make up,” Kurt said evenly, busying himself with straightening Sebastian’s collar and tie. “I just wanted to be thorough.”

Sebastian chuckled and tipped Kurt’s chin up for a quick peck. “No reason for that one,” he explained. “I just wanted to kiss you again.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty more chances tonight.” Kurt twisted the doorknob and pulled. “Go get some work done,” he teased, pointing towards the elevators.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Sebastian squeezed Kurt’s bicep before heading off without another word. An elevator opened for him immediately and he threw one last smile Kurt’s way before the doors shut and he zipped off.

Kurt closed his office door before someone (Chase) could come in and ask who the hot guy was. He opened up his desk drawer to pull out the phone that had been in there since last night.

It was time to update the bucket list.

~~**25\. Have one torrid night with a masked stranger.** ~~

(He was a stranger when Kurt had the torrid night with him, so it totally counted.)

~~**40\. Do something wild on the subway (other than breaking into song).** ~~

~~**159\. Fuck on the first date.** ~~

(Kurt absolutely counted the masquerade ball as a first date. But even if he didn’t, Kurt was sure it would be true by tomorrow.)

And then he noticed another item a little further down the list, one he’d forgotten was even on it. Going on a date with a former enemy— and being stupidly excited about it and having that excitement reciprocated— wasn’t what he was thinking about when he wrote it, but damn if it didn’t check that mark.

~~**163\. Reconnect with someone from your past. Make the relationship better than last time.** ~~


End file.
